


Three Times Dimitri Managed to Change Claude’s Mind (and The One Time Dimitri failed)

by on my knees you become god (collettephinz)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 3 + 1, 3 plus 1, Angst, Azure Moon Route, Blue Lion Run, Canon Divergence, Claude being too smart for his own good, Dimitri tries to flirt, Feral Dimitri, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental Instability, Politics, Post Time Skip, Pre time skip, but not together cause I'm s o f t, feral dimi stuff you know how it goes, idk y'all it's cute I like this idea, it's "canon" up until chap 3, rated E for chapters 3 and 4, sex and violence, somewhat canon compliant AU, the fragile structure of the royal family line, uuuuuuuuuuhhh, violence is in chap 2 tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/on%20my%20knees%20you%20become%20god
Summary: If there was one person in this entire damned continent that could understand and sway Claude, it was Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and this fact frustrated Claude to no end.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 189





	Three Times Dimitri Managed to Change Claude’s Mind (and The One Time Dimitri failed)

**Author's Note:**

> *finger guns*
> 
> to cope with Sylvain/Felix being more popular than Dimitri/Felix, I know ship Dimitri/Claude until the world ends and by god do I love it

Garreg Mach was cold and echoey and uncomfortable as always for Claude. Even when bustling with students and animals and life in general, the place felt a lot like the bones of a carcass that had been picked clean. Archaic and unwelcoming no matter how hard the staff tried to make it seem like a home. There were places that were better than others, such as the stables where Claude could fall back to his roots and work with the horses, or the training grounds where he could watch Felix of the Blue Lions argue incessantly with Ferdinand Von Whatever. He liked the back areas of the church as well, out the side exits and to the terraces that overlooked the clouds below. Small places that he could stand to spend his time in where few and far between but had become a safe haven for Claude whenever the coldness of the stone and Lady Rhea’s smile became too much.

And since the most bearable of places was the library, so he spent most of his restless nights there. Not for reading, generally, and not for anything important. The dark wood and the smell of old books was comforting in an almost instinctual way that he knew quite a few of the other students shared with him. He’d often find Ignatz here along with Lysithea or sometimes the new Blue Lion Professor. Tomas would be here as well, puttering around and muttering to himself about things Claude didn’t understand, but found comfort in the stream of gentle noise nonetheless. At first, Claude hadn’t come here often enough to make it a habit, but often enough to notice when a new tenant moved into the quiet space.

High Prince of Faerghus Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd hadn’t been the kind of person Claude would have expected to bury himself in dusty tomes, but it wasn’t like there was anyone else at the monastery sporting that shade of blue with golden hair. A few nights of simply existing in the same space with Dimitri pouring over old books without a word had made Claude so infuriatingly curious that he’d eventually made his move, opting to sit beside Dimitri and pretend to read a play. The prince had been far too polite to ask him to fuck off and that was how Claude had found himself a new reading partner.

This went on for a few months, sitting side by side. Claude eventually got bored of pretending to read and had just started genuinely reading. He knew quite a bit about botany now— enough to know that a Pegasus Blessing sounded a lot more like some codeword for sordid soil that the gardener used rather than a genuine fertilizer. How else would they sometimes double or triple a harvest with just that?

And as the months had gone by, Dimitri had grown accustom to Claude’s presence, which was—

It was nice. Really nice.

Claude and Dimitri had something in common that they didn’t share with anyone else. They were both royal in a way, both set to rule, and both of them sometimes felt alienated from the others for it. Edelgard didn’t have this problem because Hubert was an enigma that Claude really didn’t want to unfold. He and Dimitri, though, they both felt a twin struggle in what they were and what they were meant to be. Dimitri wanted friends more than anything and all he had were allies. Good allies, of course, but what friends he had weren’t really… intimate. Maybe Felix had been, once upon a time, but Claude was almost positive Felix wished Dimitri had died instead of his knightly brother Glenn. Ingrid was frigid and impersonal unless you talked fairy tales. And Sylvain was…

Sylvain was Sylvain, goddess. Claude knew he had a smile that never reached his eyes, but he was pretty sure Sylvain had him beat on the false sincerities.

Dimitri really didn’t have much of anyone that would admit to being close to him. Dimitri wanted to be close to people, Claude was sure, like Dedue or Ashe, but they couldn’t drop the formalities. Claude knew these people were trying to be respectful, but they really didn’t seem to understand how dehumanizing it felt to be referred to as a mere title by the people they loved. Claude referred to Dimitri with the formalities from time to time, but it was easy to tell Claude didn’t believe in any title at all. Royal titles became pet names and Dimitri accepted that easier than anything else, though he still brightened considerably when hearing his true name from Claude’s lips.

This shared understanding of the loneliness of royalty was Claude’s reasoning for why Dimitri warmed up to him so quickly. Being quiet in the library was the expected norm, of course, but that didn’t stop them from having whispered conversations. Claude would sometimes find plants that he thought were bizarre— the Hydnellum Peckii was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen, so of course someone else needed to suffer with him— and would regal Dimitri with hushed tales of poisoning versus curing with every odd thing in the world. And Dimitri would reciprocate with bare minimum explanations of what he was reading. Claude had peaked at the books before, of course he had, _they’d sat together for months._ Transcriptions of official royal messages, battle tactics used in recent wars, crests and Duscur culture and trade routes. The prince was investigating something, and for once—

For once, Claude didn’t think he wanted to know. Dimitri’s gaze would grow heavier the more he read into the night, the bags under his eyes nothing compared to the darkness in his expression. Dimitri was slowly discovering something that was keeping him up in night in more ways than just insomnia— whatever he was investigating was hurting him, in some way. Claude didn’t like it but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sway the prince to stop, so he helped in the small ways he could.

Chamomile tea to calm the prince’s thoughts, bits of cheese he “stole" from Raphael’s plate during meals, the extra blanket or two as the nights grew colder, small gestures that let the poor prince know that Claude understood. Sometimes a person had to seek out the most unfortunate of truths and bear the weight of reality. As royalty, they couldn’t confide in someone until they had the proof because god knew what a person would do to help their leader. Claude was sure that if Dimitri let something slip, Dedue would be going to Petra for advice on assassination. It just wasn’t safe for them to risk putting their people in danger when they didn’t have every single tiny fact laid out like a map. And Claude knew that this side of ruling was _exhausting_.

That was why Dimitri never turned down the gifts. Though he failed to make an expression when Claude had given him a reserve extra sharp cheddar as a prank— could the man not taste, for the love of the gods?— he never rejected the food or the tea or the blankets and would even grace Claude with a rare smile, something soft and almost affectionate. The tiredness would leave his eyes as he sipped the tea and ate the snacks and he’d curl up in his seat with the blankets over his shoulder, looking almost like he was wearing a thick, fur cape. Claude rather liked the look on him. The first time Dimitri had worn the blankets in such a way, Claude had laughed and told Dimitri he looked like a king already. And the faint blush that had come over Dimitri’s cheeks with those words—

Well.

Claude wasn’t the type of person to do things out of pure, unfettered generosity. He always stood to gain something with every action in his life. There was a selfishness to Claude’s gift giving and he couldn’t bother denying it once Hilda realized who the harbored items and teas and food were for. Most everyone in Golden Deer knew about Claude’s… dilemma. The complicated problem that would never be solved, only remedied if ignored, something Claude refused to do. Dimitri’s family had been slaughtered in front of his eyes. Claude wasn’t going to be yet another loss on the young prince’s list. He just couldn’t be part of a world so cruel.

So for as long as he could, Claude was going to dote. The teas and the cheese and the occasional whetstone he said he’d found lying around (when in reality he’d paid good money because there was no way he would let the prince go out into battle with a dull blade), the riding boots that he knew fit Dimitri because he’d asked a certain Duscur for sizes, and the training weight that he’d had to have Hilda help him place on the table in the library for when Dimitri showed up.

Hilda had called it courting.

It _wasn’t_ courting.

(It might be courting.)

Claude didn’t know and he didn’t have a lot of options. He and Dimitri couldn’t wed even if the heavens burned up and Dimitri somehow returned Claude’s misguided feelings. They both needed to sire heirs and neither Claude nor Dimitri had the right parts for completing the chain in baby making. They had responsibilities to their respective kingdom/alliance that would keep them from seeing one another unless they declared war. And they were both men. Not a problem for the younger people, but Claude knew quite a few of the lords of Faerghus would have an issue with Dimitri taking on a male consort, if Claude would even be able to call himself that. And some of the lords in the Alliance were tentatively nervous about the prince because the Alliance had fought to _leave_ Faerghus. It was all too complicated

Honestly, these old fools and their bloodbaths. Claude was tired of it. Tired of the politics and the infighting and the outfighting and the anger and hate and racism and cruelty and trading lives for status and crests. It sickened and wore him out. It was why his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And that was why Claude excused himself this selfishness. Dimitri was as obtuse as they came, he’d never know Claude was subtly courting him with no expectation of acceptance. Claude was content to spoil the prince in the smallest of ways and be as close to a friend as either of them could have with their destinies. Claude was happy to be someone special to Dimitri to whatever extent Dimitri allowed.

That being said, Claude always ended up drawing the line between fighting insomnia and torturing oneself.

“And that’s the moon, making her final call at the zenith,” Claude said softly conversationally as he came back into the library from stretching his legs. He sat down in his normal spot from across Dimitri and noticed that even Tomas wasn’t up anymore. The candles were burning down to the wick. They’d lose all light soon, artificial and natural. Still, Dimitri turned another page, brow furrowed as it had been for hours, eyes darting across the page. Claude had once admired the man’s ability to focus so intently. Now he realized that the prince would starve himself for these books if he could.

Claude kicked Dimitri’s chair and smiled charmingly when Dimitri jolted and looked to him in alarm. “Careful with the stormy brow, your princely-ness,” he teased. “You’ll get another headache.”

“The one from last night never left.” Dimitri sat back in his chair and pulled the blanket tighter over his shoulders, flexing his fingers in the soft fabric. Claude was sure they were as stiff as a corpse’s by now. “Is it really so late?”

“At this point, I’d suggest just calling it a cat nap rather than going to bed.” Claude glanced to the book Dimitri was reading and saw something about travel routes along the Duscur border. He leaned forward and tugged at the string of cloth attached to the spine of the book, laying it across Dimitri’s place and closing the book itself. Then he set it aside and stood, collecting the other tomes and stacking them in his hands, taking them to the small table Tomas reserved for students to keep their books they were in the middle of. He set the books gently down and laid a dust cloth over the books so Tomas wouldn’t get on them for mistreating anything they read. And Dimitri let him do all of this without a word, watching Claude as he always would. Claude turned back to him and brushed his hands.

“Well?” he asked, cocking a hip. “Are you finally ready?”

Dimitri stared at him— stared _into_ him. He then stood slowly, gathering the cup Claude had used when bringing him tea and setting it with the books as well for them to clean later when the kitchens were open. Claude nodded, satisfied, and headed for the door. Their dorms were in separate areas, thanks to classism, so they’d part ways once getting down to the first level and heading towards the dining hall. They rarely talked during the walk, as Dimitri was normally worn to the bone at this point, and Claude somehow enjoyed the silence of the monastery that seemed a lot less cold when Dimitri was with him. It also gave him a good chance to hang back and catch a few selfish glances towards the prince, gaze roaming and appreciating in a way he couldn’t risk in the library. Dimitri really was a gorgeous thing to look at and appreciate.

He walked slowly so Dimitri could set the pace and then stretched his arms above his head once they reached the stairs that led to the second story of the dorms, the moment when Dimitri would leave him.

“Well, it’s been fun, Dimitri,” he said as he grunted with the strain of the stretch on his back. He needed to start fixing his posture when sitting in that library chair or he’d pay for it for the rest of his life. “Enjoy your nap. Give that professor of yours my best—”

“I don’t want to go.”

Claude’s parting words died on his lips. He looked to Dimitri in barely-masked surprise. “It’s late, Dimitri. Wouldn’t want to fall asleep in class. And isn’t there a lance tournament starting tomorrow? You know you’ll be entered, you can’t win if you’re exhausted.

Dimitri wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at the stairs like he wished they didn’t exist. “I don’t want to go.”

“Oh, come on.” Claude took a step forward so he stood in Dimitri’s way, forcing the other’s eyes to meet his own. “Don’t be like that. You know, these are really bad habits you’re making for yourself. A king can’t help anyone if he’s sleeping like the dead in his throne.”

“I don’t want to go,” Dimitri repeated. He was _exhausted_, Claude could see it clear as day. Why was he fighting this? “I won’t go,” the young prince said, his voice growing firm. “I’ll stay awake, break through into the next day and go to bed early tomorrow.” As if. “I won’t go up there.”

Claude fought down an involuntary scowl at Dimitri’s stubbornness and threw his hands into the air with a shrug. “It’s your funeral,” he said, turning on his heel. He had a crush, yes, but he wasn’t going to sacrifice—

“Stay with me.”

Claude stopped in his tracks and groaned inwardly. “Unlike you, your highly-ness, I can’t function on three hours of sleep and pure spite. Hanneman is having me take the archer certification exam tomorrow and I really can’t pass out in the middle of that.” And Hilda wanted him for tea, Lysithea needed his supervision for baking sweets in the kitchen, Leonie wanted to fight him or something—

“Claude.”

Claude grit his teeth, not turning around. “And I’ve got my own studies, you know, things that _aren’t _botany and definitely _not_ courier routes between Duscur and Faerghus. And we have the choir thing coming up and I’m pretty sure the dance is going to be the death of me. There are tests to take, Hanneman wants me on a horse, I can’t just—”

There was a hand on his shoulder. “Please.”

Oh gods damn it all.

Claude turned and made the fatal error of meeting Dimitri’s gaze. Those blue eyes were old, older than they should look for someone Dimitri’s age. He seemed paler than normal and the hand on Claude’s shoulder was shaking. Why was he shaking?

“It’s important,” Dimitri whispered like raising his voice would shatter something between them. “Please.”

Claude swallowed down his true emotion at seeing Dimitri like this and teased instead. “Never imagined I’d have the future king begging me for anything.

“This isn’t begging,” Dimitri said. Then, “Yet.”

How dare this idiot give Claude any useless hope? Claude huffed and scuffed his right boot on the ground and realized he was going to stay up with this prince. All of Golden Deer would know and he’d never hear the end of it. If he failed the certification exam, Hanneman was going to have Claude’s head and his pride. And if he didn’t give his classmates the attention they asked for, there could be unrest within the Golden Deer. The list of reasons why Claude should say no went on and on.

And still, looking into those aged, tired eyes, Claude sighed and wet his lips and said, “Okay.”

The relief that spilled across Dimitri’s features was so bright that it made up for the loss of the moonlight behind the low clouds. Then Dimitri turned and began to walk away from the dorms. Claude had no choice but to follow.

They were silent again as Claude followed Dimitri towards the cemetery. It was an odd place to be, but Claude was sure Dimitri had a very different relationship with death than most everyone else at the Monastery. Dimitri went to the overlook, the wall of the cemetery dropping into nothing below. The air was frigid and even Dimitri looked cold. Claude shivered and crossed his arms tightly, angry with himself for agreeing. He would have insisted on going to bed if he’d known Dimitri meant to take him—

There was a softness and warmth enveloping Claude suddenly, a body pressed against his left side and the blanket over his other shoulder. Dimitri was sharing the blanket. Claude’s cheeks went a little pink. _Dimitri was sharing the blanket_.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri said, looking out at the clouds below the monastery. “I know this is not the best place, but it’s… private. I’m sure it’s very morbid for you.”

More like disturbing. Claude knew he was going to die one day but that didn’t mean he wanted to picture his own headstone, if he would get one at all. He just shrugged it off nonetheless. “You ready to explain yourself, dear prince?”

“I’m scared.”  
  
Claude would have jumped out of his boots if they weren’t laced so tight. His gaze snapped to Dimitri, who was still staring straight ahead. For a moment, Claude almost thought he’d heard wrong.

But then, “I’m scared,” Dimitri said again. “I am learning something I do not like. I do not think it bodes well for the future, though whose future, I am not sure. But I am learning something that is far too much for me to handle on my own and yet I cannot imagine telling anyone this awful truth because I couldn’t ever wish this horrible future on anyone but me.” Dimitri sighed slowly through his nose. “… I wish I had never started to dig.”

Claude’s throat was dry. Not because he felt Dimitri wasn’t allowed to be scared, but because he was stunned to know he was someone Dimitri felt he could confide in like this. It was a blessing that almost had him considering the goddess may not be as heartless as he believed. “You sought justice,” he said. “For the Tragedy of Duscur, I am sure.” He smiled when Dimitri looked a little surprised that Claude had put it together so easily. “That’s one thing I’ve always liked about you— you’ve never condemned the race that is blamed for the death of everyone you love.”

“Because they are not to blame,” Dimitri murmured.

Claude agreed, but, “That— is a dangerous claim.”

“One that I will make with confidence until the day I die, no matter who may hate me for it.” Dimitri’s eyes finally left the clouds and went to the ground. Then, he leaned ever-so-slightly into Claude. “I don’t want the future I am uncovering. I don’t want people to die.”

Claude hesitated. “… Every route in life leads to death.” They were in a cemetery, after all. “You can’t change that.”

“But I can delay for as long as I can try,” Dimitri replied. “That is what I sought to do. Delay the deaths of more of the Duscur. And yet, I seem to have done the opposite. I think I’ll be leading hundreds of thousands more than just the Duscur into early graves.” Dimitri shuddered against Claude and he didn’t think it was because Dimitri was cold.

“I wish my father were alive,” Dimitri confessed. “I come to these graves because… I believe we all go somewhere good as long as we are as good as we can be. The people buried here must have been just. Being close to these graves brings me closer to my father than anywhere else.”

Claude nodded slowly like he understood when he barely even came close to understanding at all. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you for finding this truth, however unfortunate it is.”

“I don’t think anyone can speak for the dead but the dead themselves.”  
  
Claude frowned softly at that. “You talk to the dead a lot, Dimitri?”  
  
Dimitri didn’t answer him.

“Well,” Claude mumbled to fill the new silence. “At least we know all endings are the same. Just depends on the amount of time it takes us to get there.”

“Why did you agree to come with me?”

Claude didn’t want to answer that. “I have a hard time saying no to boys that look like drowned puppies,” he generalized. “And girls, too, of course, but you’re especially good at making me unable to abandon you.”

“Liar.”

Claude looked to Dimitri with alarm and was stupefied to see Dimitri was smiling crookedly at him, mirth glinting in his eyes. “I know you’re lying, Claude von Riegan,” he said. “I know you. Maybe everyone else finds you unreadable, but I can see your motives clear as day.”

Claude swallowed hard enough for it to hurt. “And those would be?”

“You want to court me.”

Claude stared, blinking slowly. How— how in all of Fódlan had Dimitri figured that out? Everyone had said Dimitri was blind to all advances made on him, even Sylvain had practically whined to Claude about how Dimitri wouldn’t know a girl wanted him if they wrote it out on his palm. How had Dimitri figured him out?

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri murmured as Claude, for the first time in his life, was rendered speechless. What had been a harmless self-indulgence had suddenly become one of the most stressful choices Claude had made in his entire life. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I’m very tired, you know.”

“Of course you are,” Claude said, wondering why Dimitri wasn’t pulling away. Their sides were still pressed together. He had to find some way to smooth this out before total war was declared. “Well— a-all jokes aside—”

“Jokes?” Dimitri cocked his head to the side and reminded Claude of a puppy all over again. “Was this a joke?”

“Gods above, wouldn’t that be a bad joke to make?” Claude shook his head. “No. What I’m doing— what I did. It’s far too serious to be just a joke.” It was his turn to stare at the ground, wondering what he could say, how he could possibly explain this away without risking political incident. Gods, if Hilda could see him now. Flustered and at a loss for words, so nervous his hands were getting clammy. And all over the prince— the damn prince that stayed up too late and trying to do what as right no matter how badly it ruined him. The prince that liked gratin potatoes and ceremonial swords, _ceremonial swords. _The prince that had stolen Claude’s attention and selfishness. The prince that was staring at him with patient eyes that reminded him of the Blue Lion Mercedes.

“Do you promise it wasn’t a joke?” Dimitri asked.

“Even if it was, I would lie,” Claude foolishly replied. “Your vassal would have my head on a pike before the next meal.”

“I’d never order him to do so.” Dimitri paused. “… Was it a joke, Claude?”

“No,” Claude replied, because the truth was the only thing that could save him now. “I’m not that cruel. You said you can read me, right? You know I would never do something like that.”  
  
Dimitri nodded. “Agreed.”

Then the prince leaned in, slow and careful, and pressed their lips together.

Claude stopped breathing for a moment. Dimitri’s lips were chapped but warm and he obviously didn’t know what he was doing, just crushing their mouths together and hoping Claude didn’t pull away. The inexperience was alarmingly _cute_ to Claude and he wanted to soothe his tongue over those lips and show him how it was done, how to really take someone’s breath away because obvious Dimitri stealing the breath from his lungs was just a fluke.

Dimitri pulled back and Claude realized he hadn’t even moved into the kiss. The disappointment was clear as day on Dimitri’s face. Claude could already hear the attempt at some sort of recovery and he wasn’t about to let that happen. He reached out, a hand going to that perfect, golden hair, saying, “Get back here,” before dragging Dimitri close again and showing him how to really kiss someone.

The prince gasped as Claude pressed into him, seizing the opportunity and delving his tongue inside. Dimitri was just as hot and wet as anyone else, but there was an added layer of exhilaration to this that had the other tasting like electricity to Claude. He swallowed down Dimitri’s moan of surprise and sucked on his lower lip, nipping gently and then swirling back inside. Dimitri shuddered in his grip and the night suddenly wasn’t so cold anymore. Claude took a step closer, the blanket falling from his shoulders as he pushed his front against Dimitri’s, wishing Dimitri was wearing a little less so Claude could feel his pounding heartbeat. Dimitri’s own tongue met his almost shyly, the young prince learning on the fly and sending fire singing through Claude’s veins. “That’s a good boy,” Claude murmured with a clumsy grin as he deepened the kiss. “You’re doing so well.”

Dimitri practically whined into him, his own hands wavering between their bodies like he was scared to touch. Claude was sure he was worried about losing control of his inhuman strength, but Claude wasn’t the kind of person to mind a few bruises either. He didn’t pull away as he took Dimitri by the wrists and brought the hands to his waist, a neutral, easy place for Dimitri to start while Claude absolutely ravaged his mouth. Claude tilted his head just so and curled his fingers in the golden hair, wanting to hear another one of those moans.

Instead, Dimitri suddenly yanked himself away. His eyes were dark and wild, body keyed up, hands trembling from where they were no longer touching Claude and hanging uselessly in the air. His lips were spit slick and swollen and his face flushed down the collar of his uniform. Claude grinned wide, more accomplished than he’d ever been to know he’d made such a mess of the prince of Faerghus.

Dimitri struggled to regain his breath, pupils blown wide as he just looked at Claude. “Tomorrow— eat with me?”

“Breakfast, lunch or dinner?” Claude asked.

“All of them,” Dimitri replied with a shaky smile of his own.

Claude nodded. “People will talk.” Hilda, Sylvain, everyone, really. Even Dimitri’s professor might have something to say because god knew Hanneman would.

“I am used to ignoring the whispers,” Dimitri assured him before leaning in and initiating a sweet, chaste kiss that really wasn’t helping Claude calm down. “We— we should turn in.”

Now it was Claude’s turn to not want that. “Still scared, my prince?”

“Always,” Dimitri blurted out. “But if I can manage to do something like this with what little courage I have, I’m sure I can reach greater heights of bravery in no time.” Dimitri’s gaze suddenly became guarded. “Unless— it meant something else for you?”

Claude reached out, taking Dimitri’s shaking left hand in his own. He squeezed and ran his thumb over the knuckles, feeling a sort of fondness when Dimitri’s eyes shot down to the contact like he couldn’t believe it was happening at all. “Contrary to popular belief,” he murmured, low and intimate in the narrow space between them. “I don’t take such dangerous risks unless I believe it’s worth it. My reasons for courting you were purely selfish.”

Dimitri’s brow furrowed. “But— you cannot marry me for power."

“There are different kinds of selfish out there, your highness,” Claude told him. “There’s selfishness for monetary gain, selfishness for attention, selfishness for arrogance. But courtship of you was the selfishness of possessiveness.” As Dimitri only looked more confused, Claude smirked, teeth glinting. “I knew I was someone important to you in a way unlike everyone else and I _relished_ the fact. I want to be the one and only if your life, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, who gets to sit beside you and bring you tea and snacks you pretend to enjoy and blankets and listen to you confess your fears. I want to be the only one. And it’s entirely and holistically _selfish_.”

The redness in Dimitri’s cheeks spread to his ears during the small speech and the poor prince seemed to be just as much at a loss for words as Claude had been for their first kiss. He smirked and reached up again to cup Dimitri’s jaw, raising a brow. “Will you allow me this one selfish act, your highness?”

Dimitri breathed out slowly. “Will you stop calling me that?”

Claude barked a laugh of surprise and shook his head as he leaned in to peck Dimitri on the lips. “Is that your selfish act in exchange, then?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to be more than just another person using my title as an act of submission, then yes.”

That was a lot to unpack. “You don’t want people submitting?”  
  
The hungry look in Dimitri’s eyes said the contrary. Claude couldn’t stop smiling. “We should head back,” Claude suggested, reluctant to do it at all. “I really do have that—”

“You’ll pass the exam on twenty or zero hours of sleep,” Dimitri said confidently. “You’re the smartest person in this monastery.”

Claude blinked slowly, wondering when Dimitri had become so amorous. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Dimitri looked Claude dead in the eye and said, “I’m already where I want to be.”

Claude sputtered and would have stumbled if he was walking. “You’re with Sylvain too much,” he griped as he squeezed Dimitri’s hand again and pulled him back in the direction of the dormitories. “I hope you’ll be going straight to bed after this. Wouldn’t want you missing our breakfast date.”

He turned back in time to see the dazed smile on Dimitri’s face at the word “date” and knew he was just as gone for this prince as the prince was for him. Claude walked Dimitri back to the stairs that Dimitri had looked like he hated just moments before. He kissed Dimitri goodnight, a sweet little touch of their lips that had the pink returning to Dimitri’s ears. Then the prince was up the stairs and gone, the blankets still around his shoulders, and Claude was off to Hilda’s room, praying the girl was awake and ready for several insufferable hours of Claude gushing until breakfast was served.


End file.
